Theatre 221B
by UpAllNightForLoki
Summary: Johnlock AU. Student x Lecturer relationship. M for Mature themes.
1. Summary

_"If love were not so glorified, would it be simpler for you to love me? Would it be less embarrassing to be blatantly open about those feelings of yours? Would you proudly have me...as yours, whether I be near or far...would you love me? Tell me...would you?"_

Oxmont University, one of the most prestige and valued universities in the whole of London. Home to many bright, eager and talented students, seeking their future behind the gates, behind the books, behind the knowledge of their lecturer. Need it be said it is also home to the oldest theatre in the schooling district, host to many plays, musicals and dance performances. They call it Theatre 221B, ran by the wisest drama teacher in London, the only drama teacher willing to teach students who want that taste of acting, that glory, that dream. His name, is Sherlock Holmes, thirty one years of age, stubborn, charming...handsome, yet burdened and haunted with a dark past. Acting is, and always will be his sense of freedom, the light in his life. Could it all be about to change?

Meanwhile, one John Watson, a dedicated and open minded twenty six year old, seeks out a degree in Drama Performance at Oxmont, desiring that dream he so long held back. Little does he know his entire world will be turned on its head. After already setting a bad impression on his first day, being late to the orientation, as well as in front of classmates. He is advised to make it up to the lecturer when he arrives, ordered by the hall monitor who caught him rushing about. The last man he expected to waltz through the door was the well recognised, Sherlock Holmes, the man who inspired his acting motivation in the first place.

Many twists and turns knock on both their doorsteps, causing the pair to become closer than expected, much to their dislike. Who is the young roommate who John takes a liking to? What secrets is Sherlock hiding? Will John complete his ambitions?

A tale of secret meetings, trust, drama, theatre and...romance.

_"Be careful what you wish for John Hamish Watson,"_

* * *

**Hello darlings. **

**The thought of this fan fiction came to me when I was reading 'Coriolanus' by Shakespeare. I love plays, especially Shakespeare's. So, I suddenly had a notion to write a university AU where the pairing were of two different roles in the university. John obviously being the student, Sherlock being the teacher. I thought for a while about which pairing I would choose, I decided on Johnlock, it seemed absolutely perfect for some reason. **

**A lot of the plays etc. I will make those up as I go along in this fan fiction. I will try my best to get scripts going, however, I have never written a play in my life, I have acted in a fair few during high school. So, maybe they will give me some ideas, I hope. I may however just keep the dialogue between John and Sherlock, and John's roommate, who shall not be named just yet. I shall also try my hardest to get into the feel of drama performance, it was a few years back since I did my last performance, I may be a little 'rusty' so to say. **

**Of course there shall be a lot of as we call it 'fluff' shall I say romance, to make it sound a little better? And possibly some 'smut' dare I say I will call it intimacy/passion to sound better. There may be some dark, triggering flashbacks in this, I will leave warnings for anyone it might affect, I don't want you to get upset, have flashbacks, panic etc. **

**The idea for the title, I honestly have no clue. I really wanted 221B to be used in it. Why not call it Theatre 221B and make the theatre an actual place in the story. Oxmont University is also made up, it's not real, it doesn't exist in London, obviously. I've also got a really interesting plan for the setup of the university, so stay tuned. **

**Other than that, please do enjoy. **

**Rated M for mature content such as: **

**Drug use/abuse **

**Sexual themes **

**Innuendos (I am rather immature mentally) **

**Intimacy (Smut)**


	2. Prologue - Shakespeare In The Park

**_"A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears. And harsh in sound to thine." - Coriolanus_**

* * *

_"You have no idea what you're dealing with,"_

"Shakespeare in The Park? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?"

John erupted into fits of laughter, his eyes fixated on the telly as he watched 'The Avengers' with his sister.

"This movie is absolutely horrible," Harriet huffed, taking her 3D glasses off.

"Oh come on Harry, Marvel movies are the best!" John protested. "Are you sure you don't even have the slightest bit of interest in any of the characters? Not even poor Loki?" he added, pausing the movie as he looked at his sister.

"Absolutely not, maybe, Black Widow, even so, it's so predictable. I'm going to head out to the shops," she replied.

"You're one stubborn lady Harry," John huffed, turning back to the telly.

"As always. I won't be long, make sure you pack soon, you leave tomorrow," Harriet issued.

"Yes Harry," John drawled, resuming the movie again.

Again, his eyes were fixated to the images before him. Tony Stark, played by Robert Downey Jr. and Thor, played by Chris Hemsworth were by far two of his favourite actors. However, no other actor could ever compare to the one John Watson looked up to most, Sherlock Holmes. His witty charm and lustful gaze would put anyone to their knees.

He was the man who had inspired and motivated John to become involved in acting. Soon he would be living in the campus of Oxmont University, a highly expensive one, yet worth every penny. He'd decided on a degree in Drama Performance, wanting to pursue in that field, hoping one day he may get close his, should we say, 'idol' of some sort.

_"Loki will face Asgardian justice!"_

_"He gives up the Cube, he's all yours. Until then, stay out of my way,"_

"You tell him Tony!" John yelled.

The aspiring young student, could not wait to step into his rightful place, the place he always wanted to be. This was his future.

"John!" Harriet yelled, from downstairs.

"Yes?" John replied, appearing at the top of the staircase.

"Have you packed?" she asked.

"Of course I've packed, I did it last night like you said. Everything is packed, except my furniture of course," he chuckled.

Harriet raised an eyebrow as she dried a bowl she was holding.

"Even all your posters of that actor you really fancy?" she teased with a smirk.

John's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as he looked away from his sister, grinning like an idiot.

"Why on earth would I leave them here?" he questioned.

"Hmm, good question, I'd end up throwing them out," Harriet replied.

"Harry!" John yelled, his brow furrowing.

Harriet chuckled as she disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving a frustrated John standing by himself. He sighed briefly before treading back upstairs, going into his empty room. All his books, stationery, scripts, posters, CD's, figurines and other knick knacks were packed away in one suitcase. The other suitcase held a majority of his clothing and shoes, the remaining clothing left in bags to go to the charity store. The only thing he had left out, was his notebook. Black in colour with a strong leather texture and thick, sturdy paper.

Harriet bought it for him shortly after his 26th birthday, John never let go of it since. It held all of his thoughts, his dreams, mostly his secrets. No one knew about anything written in it, John was far too anxious about it. A lot of it was to do with Sherlock Holmes, a lot of it was dreams or thoughts John had about him. It would seem like he was obsessed, yet John Watson denied the matter.

"Harriet!" John called loudly.

"What is it John?" she replied.

"When does my car arrive?" he asked, picking up the notebook as he placed it in his shoulder bag.

"Not too long now John, a few minutes I'd say. Bring your things downstairs, I'll grab your jacket!" his sister answered.

John turned back to his room as he looked around it once more. He was going to miss his house, miss Harriet. But at least he was going to a place where he could fulfill his dream, it is everything he has ever wanted.

"John! The car is here!" Harriet called, her feet thudding up the stairs.

She appeared in John's room, seeing the lost expression on his face. It was clear he was upset, yet he was moving on to a new life, something worthwhile.

"Come on honey, you'll be quite alright," she soothed, grabbing one of the suitcases.

John nodded as he grabbed the other, along with his notebook in the shoulder bag as the pair of them walked out of the room, descending down the stairs. Harriet placed the case by the door before opening it, a tall brunette man dressed in a suit, standing on the pathway.

"Mr Watson?" he asked, with a small smile.

"That's me," John replied, appearing at the door.

He put the cases down before turning to his sister, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Take care," she whispered, with a small sob.

"You too Harry," John replied, pulling away with teary eyes.

With that, he grabbed his belongings, with help from the driver, leaving for his new journey, his fate. A new page in his life turned...a new adventure on the horizon.

* * *

**A/N: Small starter to the story. Chapter One will begin at the university, where John is late to class. Sherlock will turn up also, unless I decide to bring that in around chapter two. Hope you enjoy. **


	3. Chapter One - Trust A Few

_**"So foul and fair a day I have not seen." - Macbeth**_

* * *

_**"Students you have ten minutes remaining before the hall monitor arrives," a voice over the speaker spoke.**_

Those were the last words John ever wanted to hear. He was in fact late for class, his first class of the day, that was going to look great for his reputation.

"Bloody stupid alarm!" he yelled, fumbling about for clothes.

John was never introduced to his roommate once he had arrived late yesterday afternoon. His roommate was quite a bookworm who enjoyed studying more than socialising. He wasn't overly bothered yet would loved to have met him. However, his roommate was taking the same course as him, perhaps they would cross paths. After finally gathering all his belongings, John raced out the door, running down the hallways, rather than walking.

Many students had gone to class already, except for the few who were not needed in their classes until late evening. The occasional person would look up, shake their head at John as he dashed past, whispering quietly with their friends about the 'new' student. Apparently new students were always spotted that way, prone to lateness. Suddenly, John ran into someone, his notebook flying across the floor.

"No running in the halls!" a loud voice yelled.

John looked up as he picked himself up off the ground, dusting himself off.

"I'm sorry Miss," he replied quietly.

"That's Miss Mary Morstan to you. Where's your hall pass?" she asked.

"I-I don't have one," John mumbled, picking up his notebook.

"Well, then you'll not be in your lecturer's good books, follow me please Mr?" Mary questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

John swallowed the lump in his throat, clutching his notebook to his chest.

"Watson, John Watson," he replied, looking away.

"Right, this way John Watson," Mary ordered, turning on her heel.

He grumbled to himself as he followed Mary down the hallway. How did she even know where he was heading to?

"Miss Morstan," John spoke.

"Yes, what is it?" she replied, not even glancing back at John.

"How do you know where we are going?" he asked.

"I've worked here for five years John, I know a drama student when I see one," Mary drawled, turning down another hallway before opening a door. "I also know you live in the Dukesford Street of campus, no one else runs unless you're coming from all the way over there," she added.

John found himself walking through a courtyard, students watching him as he passed.

"Morning Mary, out catching the new ones are we!" a voice yelled.

"Yes Richard, and I'll be chasing you later on if I see you late for class you hear me?" Mary retorted.

John couldn't help but smirk slightly as he kept his eyes to the ground. How much longer until he got to his class?

"We're here," Mary spoke, looking over at John.

He raised his head, gasping slightly as he gazed upon the large theatre before him. It was an old building but looked absolutely brand new.

"Theatre 221B John Watson, remember that, excuse me one moment," Mary issued, slipping through the doors.

John's heart began to pound in his chest as he waited outside for Mary to come back.

"Please, no one look at me," he whispered.

"John, come in please," Mary's voice interjected, appearing again.

John took a deep breath before following Mary inside, his eyes being met with slight darkness as the room was fairly dim lit. Yet he could feel all eyes on him as Mary walked him down one of the empty rows of plush red seats. The whole interior was flawless, quite remarkable for a university theatre, in fact it was better than any other theatre John had visited in his lifetime. A woman stood up from a desk, a small smile on her face.

"You're rather late Mr Watson, I will however let you off with it. I will have to report it to your lecturer though," she spoke firmly.

"Wait, you're not the lecturer?" John asked.

"Oh heavens no, I'm far from good at drama. Your actual lecturer, he's a genius," the woman replied.

A male lecturer? This was new for John as he had only ever had female teachers in his schooling, never males.

"I best be off, behave yourself John," Mary warned before turning around and leaving.

"Do take a seat John, oh, and my name is Rebecca, call me Becca," the woman issued, gesturing up the rows of seats.

"Thank you," John replied as he nervously made his way up the stairs, looking away from anyone who dared make eye contact with him.

He placed himself in a seat in front of two students who stared at him curiously.

"A new bloke," the male spoke with a low tone.

"Greg, leave him alone," the female snapped.

"What? New toy to play with," he laughed.

"There will be no toying around Lestrade," another soft velvety voice interjected.

John looked up as he locked eyes with a reasonably nice looking gentleman. Short black hair, deep brown eyes, slightly taller than him, playful smile and a very 'tender' face. He was gorgeous in John's books, causing him to blush slightly. It didn't help that the guy was wearing a fairly tight fitting shirt with a low collar and some jeans.

"Trust you to come along," the one John now knew as Greg replied.

"Do shut up sweetie or I'll burn the heart out of you," the younger man replied with a low whisper.

"Oh I'm scared," Greg sarcastically whimpered.

"Enough, the both of you," the woman muttered.

John shifted in his seat as he looked away from the one whose name he didn't know, his eyes fixated on the seats in front of him. He felt a tap on his shoulder, turning around as he gazed at the woman behind him, a gentle smile on her lips.

"I'm Molly Hooper, this is my idiot boyfriend Greg," she spoke, holding out her hand.

"John, John Watson," he replied, shaking Molly's hand, then Greg's.

"And this is-" Greg paused as the younger man scowled at him.

"Jim," he whispered, looking at John. "Jim Moriarty," he added, holding his hand out.

"James," Greg coughed with a chuckle, Moriarty glaring at him.

"I prefer Jim, shut your mouth Lestrade," he growled, glancing back at John.

John took his hand, ready to shake it when it was suddenly pulled up, Moriarty's lips pressing gently on the top of his hand. John felt the heat rise to his face as a small grin spread on Moriarty's face.

"Uh, a pleasure," John wavered, the blush more prominent on his face.

"Jim stop doing that, he could be straight for all you know," Greg huffed.

"It's only part of my act. Do shut up Greg," Moriarty grumbled, sitting down beside John.

"I'm gay actually," John mumbled.

"Oh, apologies," Greg replied.

"Idiot," Molly muttered, shaking her head.

John stifled a laugh as he looked back down at Rebecca who was talking on the phone.

"Who is Rebecca talking to?" he questioned.

"Hmm, our lecturer maybe. He's always late. Prepare yourself, he tends to make a grand yet unexpected entrance," Moriarty replied, resting his palm under his chin.

"Oh, who is our lecturer?" John asked.

"I can't say, surprise," Moriarty chuckled, gazing at John briefly.

"Not fair Jim," John huffed, his brow creasing.

"Oh, I like you," Moriarty purred with a small grin.

John's cheeks flushed again as he looked back down at Rebecca who gathered all of her belongings up.

"Your lecturer is on his way. Behave," she ordered, before leaving out one of the fire exit doors.

"Well now we bloody well wait!" Greg yelled, sending the entire class into an uproar of laughter.

"Mr Lestrade, watch your language in my class, we have talked about this," a voice boomed in a monotone.

John's breath caught in his throat as he looked at the stage, a light centred in the middle. He recognised that voice, it couldn't be...could it?

"No response? Pity. You were always the one with witty comebacks. I am most disappointed," the voice droned on in a slight baritone now.

Footsteps clicked against the wooden stage as John's eyes stayed fixated. His anxiety was beginning to get higher and higher. Then, just like that, the footsteps stopped, a gasp leaving John's mouth, his eyes widening. Soft brown curls, glistening blue eyes, pale skin, narrow cheekbones and gorgeous lips stood before him.

"Sherlock Holmes," John whispered. "Jesus bloody Christ!" he yelled loudly, clasping his hands over his mouth, Moriarty quickly raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock's gaze moved up two rows of seats before it rested on the row John was in. His brow creased, crinkling his eyes as John was hiding his head in his arms.

"Mr Watson, I presume?" he questioned, putting his hands behind his back.

John raised his head, locking eyes with his favourite actor of all time. He was beyond blown away.

"Y-yes," he stammered, slapping himself mentally.

Sherlock huffed slightly, turning his gaze away.

"You have detention with me after class for being late," he murmured.

"Says the one who was late," John whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock replied, turning back, frowning at John.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, cringing at himself.

"Make that a double, Mr Watson," Sherlock droned, stepping off the stage.

"Yes sir," John sighed.

"Mr Holmes, thank you," the actor snapped, stopping by his desk.

Wow, was he stubborn, too stubborn for John's liking. Moriarty cleared his throat as he slid a note onto John's lap, smiling slightly. John frowned as he opened the note, reading it to himself.

_'Double detention, on your first day? Very naughty, yet sexy,' - JM._

John squirmed in his seat as he heard a low chuckle leave Moriarty's lips. He'd only just met the young man and he was flirting with him, or do they call it 'wooing' in the theatre world? He scribbled a reply back before handing it to Moriarty, watching Sherlock in the process. Jim's eyes widened at the response, a little blush on his cheeks.

_'The only sexy thing here is you, Jim Moriarty,' - JW._

Moriarty let out a low chuckle, writing a response before throwing it over to John, merely missing his head. John mocked offence as the pair snickered with laughter, unnoticed by Sherlock, at least that's what they thought.

"What appears to be so funny, Mr Watson...Mr Moriarty," his voice droned as he ascended halfway up the stairs.

"Nothing si-uh, Mr Holmes," John replied, shoving the note into his pocket.

"Are you sure? Would you care to share the petty hilarity with the rest of your classmates?" he questioned in a low monotone again.

"No Mr Holmes, it was a silly little joke. We're fine now," Moriarty replied.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes showing more.

"Be warned, gentlemen, if this happens again, you Mr Watson will receive a third detention and I will separate you both," he snapped, resting his fingertips under his chin. "Are we understood?" he asked, eyes locked on John.

"Yes," John mumbled.

"Yes what?" Sherlock hissed, his lips moving into a thin line.

John's brow furrowed as he stared back at Sherlock. He was starting to dislike the older man more and more. Behind the screen he may seem like a charming man, yet right now, he was everything John didn't want him to be.

"Mr Watson!" he yelled, his eyes filled with anger, his arms now crossed in a defensive state.

"Yes, Mr Holmes," John replied, looking away from Sherlock.

The lecturer turned away as he faced the other half of the class.

"I hope you all understand by now, you are to treat others with respect and humbleness, if you wish to receive it in return. I do not have time for students who are here to prance around and giggle like little school girls. This is a drama performance course. You must work hard, dedicate yourself to the work. And. Don't. Stuff. Around. Especially not with me as your lecturer," he spoke with authority, earning nods from the students he's taught for over a year now. "Splendid, now, I'd like you all to read the plays you picked out from the library. Mr Watson, you may read off Mr Moriarty," he continued.

"With pleasure," John retorted with a slight purr in his voice.

"Oh John do stop it," Moriarty chuckled, a grin spreading on his face.

"Sorry Jim," he chuckled back, smiling at Moriarty. "So, what play are you reading?" he asked.

"Macbeth," Moriarty replied sheepishly, pulling the book from his bag.

"I love that one," John whispered, taking the book from Moriarty's hand.

Their fingers brushed together ever so slightly, a blush creeping along Moriarty's cheeks. John bit his lip as he cleared his throat before opening the page Moriarty was at.

"Jim, you're at my favourite bit," he spoke, eyes fixated on the page.

"Well I'm glad we have something in common," Moriarty snickered, crossing his legs as he lent over to look at the book. "You never told me what street of campus you stay on," he added.

"Dukesford," John answered.

Moriarty's eyes widened as he sat back up, his eyes fixated on John.

"Which number?" he questioned.

"212," John hummed, flicking the page over.

A smile grew on Moriarty's face as he lent down again, placing his hand over the book to block John's view, John looking up, locking eyes with him.

"Well welcome new roommate," Moriarty whispered with a smooth tone, sending John's heart racing.

Maybe making friends wasn't so hard after all.

* * *

"I still cannot believe you're my roommate," Moriarty chuckled.

Class was finished and he and John were making their way back to their dorm.

"I don't understand all the streets on campus. What's it for?" John asked, looking at Moriarty briefly.

"Well, there's certain dorms for students taking certain courses. Since we are here for drama performance we stay on Dukesford Street. Molly and Greg are in the room next to me, there's a door between our rooms that we open sometimes so we can see each other without leaving the room. It's rather fun," Moriarty explained.

"So you've never had a roommate?" John questioned.

Moriarty's brow creased slightly, a bit of sadness spread on his face.

"I did," he whispered. "We were best friends, until I fell for him and he called me disgusting," he added, a small tear rolling down his face.

"Hey, hey Jim, stop," John ordered, moving in front of him as he placed his hands on his shoulders. "I promise you, I'll be your roommate until we've finished this course. We hardly know each other, but I know we're going to be great friends," he continued.

Moriarty looked up, smiling softly as he wiped some tears away.

"C-can I hug you?" he asked sheepishly, slightly blushing.

John laughed as he pulled Moriarty into his arms, giving him a huge squeeze, Moriarty's arms wrapping around John as he smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Anytime," John replied, as they pulled away.

"When do you have detention with Sherlock?" Moriarty questioned.

"You call him Sherlock outside of class?" John answered.

"It's very rare to be allowed to call him Sherlock in class. You're pretty special if he allows you to do that," Moriarty replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.

John nodded before looking around campus, taking note of all the students who were out having lunch.

"I have a few hours yet. Should we get some lunch?" he asked.

"Is that a proposal for a date?" Moriarty teased.

"Might be, Jim," John chuckled as he and Moriarty continued walking.

"Well I wouldn't mind," he purred, playfully shoving John.

"Good afternoon Jim," a thick London accent interjected.

John raised an eyebrow as he looked up, noticing a tall man before him. He had short, slightly curled sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and fairly narrow cheekbones, dressed nicely in a deep blue suit, with the jacket open to reveal a white shirt.

"Afternoon Callum," Moriarty chirped.

"Seen Sherlock anywhere?" he questioned.

"He's still in the theatre, you might just catch him," Moriarty answered.

Callum smiled as he walked past, patting Moriarty on the shoulder.

"Thank you Jim, see you later," he replied, walking away from the pair.

John stared in bewilderment as he turned back to face Moriarty.

"Who was that?" he questioned.

"Callum Scott Hiddleston. Sherlock's how should I sat it...'other half' I suppose," Moriarty answered.

"Oh, but, Sherlock never spoke about being with anyone," John mumbled.

"He prefers to keep it quite secret from the papers. I don't blame him, Callum is quite the catch," his friend hummed, turning back to look at the taller man.

"I suppose, anyways...lunch?" John replied, earning Moriarty's attention again.

"Yes, yes let's go," he chuckled, looping his arm through John's. "I know the best place on campus," he added with a smirk.

John smirked as he and Moriarty continued on their way to get lunch. He wasn't exactly looking forward to going to detention. Sherlock had given the younger man a bad impression. He was definitely not what John had thought he was. But John didn't want to strain the acquaintance anymore than he had already. So, detention it was, whether he bloody well liked it or not.

* * *

"Alright Jim I need to go to detention now or I'll be late," John spoke, standing up from the table.

"That means I have to walk back to the dorm myself," he whined with a small pout.

John snorted as he grabbed his bag before going over to Moriarty, giving him a tight hug.

"I won't be long, I'll try get out early," he replied.

"Promise?" Moriarty asked.

"Promise," John chuckled as they pulled away.

"Don't get into anymore trouble, behave yourself," Moriarty warned.

"I'll try not to," John replied with a wink.

Moriarty smirked before waving goodbye to John as they parted ways. John was glad he had at least one friend, although he might like to know Molly and Greg also. His feet crunched against the gravel as he took the shortcut to Theatre 221B which Moriarty had shown him earlier. He was still rather annoyed about detention, he'd rather be back at the dorm, reading a book with his feet up while till talking to his new friend. John gave out a sigh as he approached the doors, opening them quietly.

"You're doing much better Sherlock," a voice spoke, interrupting John's train of thoughts.

He looked over to the stage, noticing an iPod dock sitting to the side, classical music playing out the speakers.

"I want to make sure I can at least dance a little tomorrow evening," a deeper voice murmured.

John looked further to his left and noticed Sherlock, along with that man he and Moriarty ran into earlier.

"Callum," John whispered.

He watched the pair as they gracefully glided across the stage, feet somewhat in time with each other.

"Darling, look at me in the eyes, you'll get distracted," Callum soothed as he was spun out and brought back into Sherlock's warming embrace.

"Your eyes distract me far too much. Far too beautiful to look at," Sherlock hummed in a baritone, wrapping his arm around Callum's waist.

"Oh Sherlock," he chuckled, a small smile twitching at Sherlock's mouth.

John was baffled by what he was seeing before him. Sherlock acted with such hostility towards others, mostly the students, yet here he was with Callum, smiling and being charming. It was obviously love between these two, something John had yet still to discover. The pair danced a little more, that was until Callum caught sight of John, whispering into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock's arms dropped slowly from Callum as his gaze turned to John, eyes burning into his skull. John had suddenly felt rather intimidated, shifting in his spot.

"Mr Watson, you're early," he huffed, walking over to the iPod dock as he turned it off.

"Actually I'm right on time Mr Holmes, you said 4 o'clock, it's just past that now," John replied, peering at his watch.

"He's right you know," Callum spoke softly, fixing the cuffs on his suit.

Sherlock's brow furrowed as he turned back, hands behind his back. His entire character had changed just from John's presence. He looked over to Callum, motioning him over as he put his arm around his waist, leaning in close to his ear.

"Darling will you excuse me, he's got double detention with me. He is proving rather difficult with his attitude so I think it'd be best if it were just myself and Mr Watson here," he mumbled softly.

"Of course darling, I'll see you for dinner later," Callum replied, pulling away to face Sherlock.

"Don't make too much, I want to save room for dessert," Sherlock hummed quietly with a playful smirk.

"Sherlock!" Callum exclaimed with a low chuckle.

John had heard what was said, knowing exactly what the actor and his partner meant. He cringed slightly as he looked away from the couple.

"Go on, you're making me late," Sherlock mused, giving Callum a quick kiss on the lips.

Callum smiled as he walked off the stage, passing by John on the way out.

"Goodbye Mr Watson," he spoke, before disappearing out the door.

John looked up from the floor as he turned around, facing Sherlock.

"Do you not know how to knock?" he questioned, stepping off the stage.

"I beg your pardon?" John replied, scowling.

"I am assuming you have some manners Mr Watson. I would assume that you grew up to be polite, especially to those older than you," Sherlock mumbled in his usual monotone. "However, judging by your ruffled clothes I would say you were too busy thinking about something else. Also you smell-" the lecturer paused as he lent a little closer to John. "You've got another aroma on you, it's not yours and it's very distinct. There's only one more person in this entire class who wears that type of perfume," he continued, John's eyes widening. "Jim Moriarty, am I correct?" he questioned.

"Why is it any of your business?" John snapped.

"Oh it isn't, I was simply deducing your current state Mr Watson. Now, I'd like you to read through this script here and correct every single mistake in it. If you don't find all of them, I will give you double homework," Sherlock droned.

"Bastard," John hissed under his breath.

"I know Mr Watson, I don't need to be told again and again. Now, off you go and please don't disturb me unless you have a question about the task I have set for you," Sherlock replied, sitting down in his seat, feet propped up on the desk as he rested his fingertips under his chin, closing his eyes.

John simply frowned as he trudged three rows up the stairs before placing himself in one of the seats. He placed his shoulder bag to the side before picking up the script, scanning over it. His eyes widened slightly as he saw that this was a script written by Sherlock. The basic plot was about a consulting detective and a retired army doctor who lived in a small flat in London. There were a lot of different cases, along with a villain in the story who was rather cheery, pretending to be gay to somehow get under the skin of the detective. John suddenly snorted, thinking Moriarty would fit in well for that part in a sense. By then Sherlock's eyes had snapped open, glaring at John questioningly.

"Something...funny Mr Watson?" he asked.

John stared back at his lecturer, his eyes scanning the student as he sat upright in his seat.

"No, just a silly memory Mr Holmes, I'm fine," John murmured.

Sherlock's brow creased before he stood up, pulling his phone from his pocket to look at the time.

"Mr Watson I'm afraid I will have to make my leave. Very urgent matter with Callum. You may let yourself out, I'll expect that script tomorrow," he drawled in a baritone, picking up his Belstaff coat.

John simply nodded as he watched Sherlock leave, the door slamming shit behind him.

"Jesus Christ he's a pain!" John roared, resting his head on the seat in front of him.

He was beyond angry now, Sherlock was meant to be a drama lecturer yet he was more like a man who was too lazy to do his own work. Not to mention he was stubborn, irritating and snobby as all hell. John stood up as he grabbed his shoulder bag, putting it over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs.

"This is what I think of your bloody script you cock!" he yelled, throwing the papers on the stage as they scattered everywhere.

John's chest heaved as he turned around and made a quick exit out of the doors. He was probably going to regret that, or not. He certainly could not stand anymore of Sherlock's attitude. Yet he keeps thinking about him. Why?

* * *

Late evening, the sun had set and all the lights around campus lit up. Most students would be in their dorms, some at night classes which would roll on until early morning. Sherlock had just left his room at Baker Street of campus after having dinner with Callum a few hours ago. Most teachers lived on campus to make it ever easier for them. Sherlock lived on his own, he was never one to share his personal space, apart from Callum. But even he hardly went to Baker Street. Their relationship was slightly strained at the moment, acting was the only thing that settled him down. He was slightly anxious when it came to conflict, some things he said would only heat the fire even more.

_**"Why didn't you tell me you had a drug issue!"**_

Callum's words rang through his ears, that argument was about two years ago. His lover was about to give up on him, that was until Sherlock begged for forgiveness. Although he was stubborn and seemed rather defensive, love, was his absolute weakness, he couldn't live without it. Callum had brought him out of his dark past.

"I'll never leave you Sherlock, darling...promise,"

Sherlock smiled softly as he took the pathway down to Theatre 221B. He'd left his iPod and iPod dock there, leaving it in that room may lead to it being stolen, so it was best to get it sooner rather than later. He looked up at the night sky, gazing at all the stars as a little bit of rain started, making him walk faster. Sherlock arrived at the main doors, opening it as he slipped inside. The theatre was completely silent, just how the actor and lecturer liked it. The stage light always remained on, it gave the theatre its brilliant atmosphere.

"My sanctuary," Sherlock hummed, making his way down to his desk.

Upon reaching his desk, his brow creased as he saw white sheets of paper scattered on the stage. Sherlock turned away from his desk as he pulled his Belstaff coat off, throwing it to the side as he wandered up the centre of the eyes scanned around at the paper until one had caught his eye. He picked up the front page of the script he had spent many months writing, his name neatly written under the space where the title should be. Not only that, it was the script he had given John hours ago. Sherlock looked around at the mess before him, his eyes suddenly glazing over as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Why?" he choked, biting his lower lip as he closed his eyes.

The tears rolled down Sherlock's face as he opened his eyes again, his chest heaving slightly as the tears became heavier. This was another weakness of Sherlock's. He hid any sadness, yet when alone it would get the better of him. Most nights he lay in bed and cried because of memories, because of mistakes he had made in life. Sherlock walked around the stage as he picked up pieces of the script, not bothering about placing them in the correct order. Rage had overtaken him now, yet luckily for John he was not here to have it taken out on him. Instead the wrath was taken out on a chair and several other objects on the stage, being tossed about by Sherlock as he broke down completely.

"What do I have to do to get this idiot to listen!" he yelled, kicking over another chair as he dropped to his knees, clenching his fists as he began breathing heavily. "What have I done wrong?" he whispered, a break prominent in his voice.

Sherlock was soon back to the blubbering mess he was a few moments ago. His mood swings drove him mental, as he'd never been able to control them at times like this.

"You think this is a game Mr Watson?" the actor growled, clenching his teeth. "Well then we'll play your bloody game," he hissed, looking up from the floor.

Sherlock stood up from the floor as he looked around the empty theatre. He walked back to his desk as he grabbed his coat, before quickly getting out of the theatre, leaving the script on his desk, as well as his iPod and the dock. John was making quite a scene in Theatre 221B, but Sherlock was only getting started. He was going to make the student's life hell if he didn't start to behave.

"You'll get what is coming to you Mr Watson," Sherlock droned in his monotone, as he made his way back to Baker Street, eyes burning with rage.

* * *

**A/N: Here we go, chapter one :) took a while seeing as I've had a busy week. Yes, in case you are wondering, Callum Scott Hiddleston is based off Tom Hiddleston :P Anyways, it looks like John and Sherlock had got off to a bad start, and dun dun dun, Moriarty mwahaha, I think he fancies John ;) Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter Two - Fair Is Foul

_**"One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. " - Hamlet**_

* * *

"Rise and shine John!" Moriarty sang at the top of his lungs.

"Jim!" John whined, tossing under the sheets as he nestled his head into the pillow more.

"Do not make me drag you out of there by the ankles," Moriarty huffed.

"Or what? You'll burn the heart out of me?" John chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Oh I will John, and I shall very much enjoy it," Moriarty replied harshly.

John's eyes snapped open as he turned around, locking eyes with his roommate.

"Jim," he whispered.

"Yes John? Are you afraid? Just stay still, this won't hurt a bit," Moriarty sneered with a grin.

John's eyes widened in fear as he pushed himself up in the bed.

"You're scaring me, stop it," he warned.

"Why be scared when you can be dead?" Moriarty hissed.

"Jim! Enough!" John screamed, his body shaking with panic.

A small grin spread across the younger man's face as he erupted into fits of laughter.

"Oh John, your face was priceless!" he laughed hysterically, dropping to his knees as he clutched his sides.

"You bastard, you absolute bastard!" John exclaimed, throwing the sheets off himself.

Moriarty lifted himself back up onto the bed, his laughter dying down as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"I have never...laughed so much in my life, oh John thank you," he chuckled, fixing the tie he had on.

John smirked as he stood up and walked over to his case to collect some clothes.

"Don't do that again, it was far too attractive," he scoffed, pulling out a sweater and some jeans.

"But you enjoyed it, John," Moriarty whispered, his cool breath tickling John's neck.

"If you say so," he chuckled as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Moriarty placed himself in one of the seats as he patiently waited for John to get dressed. He'd picked up breakfast for them so that they could eat it on the way to class. He sighed quietly, looking around the room before he saw a rolled up tube in John's case. Moriarty raised an eyebrow as he stood up slowly before making his way over to the case. He carefully grabbed the tube before opening it, peering inside to see several posters. The younger man looked around to see if John had come out yet, luckily he had not as the shower was still going. His fingers carefully pulled the posters out, some carelessly falling to the floor.

"Dammit," Moriarty cursed, kneeling down to pick them up.

Suddenly his eyes widened as he saw a familiar face plastered on one of the posters.

"Sherlock?" he gasped, rolling some of the other posters out.

All of them were Sherlock, either ones of his characters in movies, or himself from a photoshoot. Moriarty glanced back at John's bed, taking note that he had other posters up of actors, why not these ones? Unknown to him, John had exited the bathroom, towel over his head as he dried his hair.

"Jim what time is cla-" he paused quickly upon seeing Moriarty on the floor, the posters strewn everywhere.

"John, I'm sorry. I got curious and they fell out of the tube. Don't hate me, please. I'm a curious person, it happens right?" he squeaked, eyes locked with John's.

"You...went through my personal belongings without asking," John grumbled, throwing the towel to the side.

Moriarty gathered up the posters, placing them onto the coffee table as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'd hardly call those personal," he mumbled, pointing at the posters of their lecturer.

"They were in my case, in a tube, they clearly are personal!" John yelled.

"John please," Moriarty sighed.

"How about you just get out," John replied with slight hostility.

"Will I see you in class?" Moriarty asked, a slight break in his voice.

"As if Jim, you can bloody well piss off! If you ever touch my things again I will be asking to move to a different room. You hardly know anything about me Jim, apart from what I told you yesterday which was very little, but I put my bloody trust in you and you go sneaking around my stuff!" John exclaimed.

Moriarty bit his bottom lip as he looked away from John, a sigh leaving his lips.

"I'll be off then," he whispered, turning his back on John as he left the room.

John dropped down on his bed, his hands grasped on the edge as he hung his head. He was harsh on Moriarty, but, he had always grown up hating his personal belongings being touched, or stolen. John looked at his watch, realising he was pretty early for class, but he would be better off leaving now, seeing as he had a bit of a walk ahead of him. He didn't feel like getting into trouble with Mary Morstan again, or Sherlock. Yet he knew he would be in trouble with him, seeing as he threw a script all over the stage which happened to be written by Sherlock.

"Students, fifteen minutes until the hall monitor arrives," the crackly voice over the speaker spoke.

John stood up as he quickly grabbed his shoulder bag, his notebook, his jacket and also a copy of 'Hamlet' by Shakespeare, which he picked up at the library yesterday evening, after running out on doing his detention for Sherlock. He grabbed the key for the dorm before exiting the room, looking out at the view from Dukesford Street. The London Eye and Big Ben were in clear sight, John absolutely loved it, sometimes he and Moriarty would come outside and talk for hours while they looked out at the nightlife.

John was suddenly saddened by the thoughts of Moriarty again, Jim Moriarty, the one who had taken him in when Greg thought he could hassle him. He owed Moriarty, more than he thought, yet he bloody yelled at him for touching his belongings. It was rather stupid to be so angry, over something so small John had suddenly thought. Overreacting hardly got you anywhere.

"John, hurry up, we're going to be late," a velvety voice interjected.

John looked to his left as he saw Moriarty walking over to him, hands in his pockets.

"Jim, I-I'm so sorry," he whispered, walking over to his friend as he pulled him into a tight embrace.

"It's alright John, I should have known better," Moriarty mumbled into his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight. "Can we head to class before we're late? Let's not have you in anymore trouble," he continued.

"Absolutely," John replied, pulling away.

Moriarty smiled as he offered his arm to John, which he gladly accepted, slipping his through the younger man's as Moriarty held it comfortingly around his. Now all he had to deal with, was Sherlock.

**~~~&~~~**

Sherlock was late for the class again, however, he did not ask Rebecca to sit and watch the class while he got himself sorted. There was a brisk cold snap in the morning, causing him to pull his coat tighter to him. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. How could he possibly sleep after what had happened yesterday? Callum was of no help, as he was unable to get to the phone, as allegedly he had 'important business' to attend to. In other words, he did not want to deal with Sherlock's moping and simply wanted to rest while his partner lay curled in a ball of tears, rage and confusion at Baker Street, an anxiety attack thrown in the mix.

Sherlock had tried his hardest to shut all the emotions out, but had never felt this hopeless in his entire life. John had proven to him that his emotions could be broken down with his disrespectful attitude. They'd got off on the wrong foot, but Sherlock did not make friends, he had no friends. However, something about John intrigued him so much, he was willing to make an effort to be nice, and try to put aside everything that happened yesterday, even though he threatened to make John's life a misery. Nice to a student? Preposterous! But, Sherlock would try, all he can do is try. He had thought long and hard about how he would approach John. Hostility? Calmness? Neither were anywhere near what Sherlock was, except hostility as it seemed to fit in with his stubborn trait.

As he approached the doors to Theatre 221B, he heard chatter from inside. One voice that stood out the most was John's, obviously he'd been telling a story to Molly, Greg, Jim and a few other students. Sherlock's brow creased as he grabbed the door handles, before thrusting the doors open, the wind blowing his coat behind him and stray brown curls over his face. The atmosphere became deadly silent at the presence of the lecturer, his eyes scanning around the room.

"Good morning," he spoke, in his usual baritone, slamming the doors behind him before sauntering over to his desk.

No one said anything, they just glared in slight confusion.

"I said...good morning," Sherlock huffed, brow furrowing again.

"Good morning Mr Holmes," Molly's timid voice spoke.

Sherlock's eyes met hers as he gave her a quick smile, noticing how rosey she suddenly got on her face.

"Well, seeing as no one else wants to greet me, now...shall we begin?" he questioned, slipping his coat off in such a sensual manner it was noted thoroughly by Jim and John whose mouths lay a gap slightly. "You may proceed with your work from yesterday," he continued, arms clasped behind his back.

"Um, Mr Holmes?" Moriarty spoke softly.

"Mr Moriarty," Sherlock replied, eyes meeting the student's.

"Are you feeling alright? You appear rather, chirpy," Moriarty replied.

"I'm quite alright thank you, get on with your work," he hummed.

Everyone was silent before they began to shuffle around for their bags, small chatter happening here and there. John gazed down at Sherlock, his eyebrow raised in a questioning fashion. The actor's gaze met John's suddenly, lasting more than three seconds, make that seven, maybe even thirty seconds that was until John turned away, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Mr Watson, a moment in my back office, if you please," he droned, waltzing onto the stage as he disappeared behind a red curtain.

John turned back, noticing that Sherlock was gone, raising an eyebrow briefly before noticing the actor appear again, arms crossed over his chest.

"Quickly now," he hummed loudly.

"John, go before he gives you more detention," Moriarty whispered.

John groaned irritably as he got up from his seat and sauntered down the stairs as he hopped onto the stage before hesitantly following Sherlock into another room. It was cluttered with boxes full of costumes, wigs and props, some unopened. John couldn't help but give out a little gasp of amazement as he looked at them. Sherlock stared promptly at John before resting his fingertips to his chin.

"What game are you playing at Mr Watson?" he queried.

"I-excuse me?" John replied, now looking at his lecturer.

"Oh, you don't think I noticed? Do these look familiar to you?" he replied gruffly, turning as he grabbed a stack of papers, holding them up for John to see.

John's features suddenly changed as he looked at them, before looking back at Sherlock, his blue eyes burning with pure rage, brow creased and fingers crinkling the paper a little.

"I'm sorry Mr Holmes. Honestly I am. I got angry with your attitude towards me. I have only just started here and you...you have been nothing but stubborn and rude ever since I got here," John snapped.

Sherlock suddenly moved forward, pushing John back against the wall, hand above John's head. Their bodies were far apart but John could see every delicate feature of Sherlock now. He was better looking up close, this was the closest John had ever gotten to someone famous. Actually, scratch that he did shake Robert Downey Jr's hand one time and received a hug from him also.

"I have enough problems without you pointing out certain flaws in me," Sherlock spat, eyes crinkled at the corners. "In case you aren't fully aware of who I am like some of my other students who simply have no idea. I am Sherlock Holmes, the-" he stopped as John interjected.

"I bloody well know who you are! Sherlock Holmes, thirty one years old, born in London. Famous for your roles in 'Crescendo', 'Unearthly', 'The Black Flag' and famous for roles in theatre such as 'Hamlet', 'Macbeth', 'Coriolanus' along with your partner Callum and 'Until It Roams'. I know it all! I have watched you. I have seen all those movies, all those plays. You were bloody fantastic! You delivered the lines so well, portrayed the characters exceptionally and you had so much wisdom about you. If anyone knows who you are they should be bloody privileged to have you teaching them and I certainly am. But the way you presented yourself yesterday, is starting to make me change my damn mind!" John yelled.

Sherlock stared blankly at John, his eyes flickering away from him, then back.

"I, um, thank you...Mr Watson," he coughed nervously as he moved away from John.

John stared back at the actor, his face stricken with confusion.

"No one has ever, praised me for all that. Nor have I really been yelled at like that before," Sherlock mused, placing his hands behind his back.

He had never felt this way in quite a while. It seems John had struck a nerve that made him realise something. How were his students ever going to listen ig he was always conflicting with them? How could he possibly do his job?

"Mr Holmes?" John whispered, eyeing him briefly.

"Mr Watson, I want you to act," he finally spoke.

"Pardon me?" John questioned.

"You're here to learn how to act, or to brush up on your skills, your knowledge, are you not? It's fairly simple. Act," he mumbled in a monotone before leaving the room.

John quickly followed, still mildly confused as to what was happening. As he was nearing the stage, Sherlock spun around, his face contorted into that of anger.

"Mr Watson, your attitude is appalling. What do you have to say for yourself!" he roared.

He had been confused at first, but soon he realised, Sherlock had wanted to see him act as best he could.

"Nothing Mr Holmes! You're a fool and you will continue to be with your bloody stubbornness!" he exclaimed.

"I am not stubborn you twit! I am simply tired of your actions!" Sherlock yelled.

It had captured the attention of the entire class. Moriarty watched on, fearing for the worst as he had hoped John would have sorted things out.

"Oh? Is that how you put it. Well Mr Holmes, I for one do not accept such utter crap!" John hollered, hearing a gasp from the class.

A mere smirk grew on Sherlock's face, only visible to John as he sauntered around the stage, John following his every movement.

"You wish to act, then you better bloody well make sure you want it John Watson, otherwise you'll never make it," Sherlock sneered with a grin.

"Ah, but I am acting," John replied, tilting his head slightly as more people gasped.

A lopsided smile spread on Sherlock's lips as he nodded slightly.

"Well done Mr Watson!" he cheered, moving forward as he clasped his hands on John's shoulders. "Very well done," he added with another smile.

Their 'audience' were silent for a moment, before erupting into applause. A smile grew on John's face before Sherlock mouthed 'take a bow' to him. John followed the simple gesture, classmates standing up in an ovation, still clapping loudly.

"That. Is how you act, ladies and gentlemen. Now come along. Back to your work we haven't got all day," Sherlock chimed.

John turned to look at Sherlock who had pulled his phone out briefly to check the time. His gaze met John's and he nodded to him, gesturing his hand toward John's seat.

"You're free to go," he issued.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes," John replied as he stepped off the stage, before jogging up the stairs.

"No jogging Mr Watson," Sherlock hummed in a baritone.

John stopped abruptly, grinning from ear to ear as he knew Sherlock would be too. He placed himself back in his seat next to Moriarty who was staring at him with a small grin.

"Well played Johnny boy. I am impressed," he chuckled.

"Thanks Jim, it was Sherlock's idea," John replied.

"Really? That's new. What made him change so suddenly?" Moriarty asked.

"I don't know really," John mused, looking down at Sherlock who was bent over, talking to another student, his palms resting on the small tables that could be retracted out from the side of the chairs. "Maybe just some-" John stopped suddenly as he saw Sherlock's eyes meet his, a smile growing on his face, flashing his teeth at him, before turning away again.

"Well, if I'm not misunderstood, I'd say that look means he fancies you," Moriarty teased.

"Oh shut up Jim," John laughed, slapping his friend across the arm.

"How I would kill to see that come true," Moriarty sang.

"Jim," John whined, bringing out the 'M' in a prolonged fashion.

"It is so fun to tease you," Moriarty chuckled as he lent back in his seat.

"Stop flirting you two," Greg interjected.

"Shut up Lestrade," Moriarty and John said in unison.

They stared at each other briefly, a blush spreading on Moriarty's cheeks.

"Gay," Greg hummed.

"Greg shut up you're being rude," Molly snapped.

"Sorry love," Greg laughed.

John felt Moriarty nudge his leg before a sly little note was passed to him. He turned it over, his eyes scanning over the messy scribble.

_'Fancy dinner, tonight? 8 o'clock?' - JM_

His eyebrow quirked up slightly as he saw the small grin on Moriarty's face as he continued to read 'Macbeth' quietly. John wrote back a quick reply before slipping it back to Moriarty who daintily flipped it over.

_'I'd love to. I will pay,' - JW_

Moriarty looked back at John, his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled.

"You absolute sweetheart," he whispered.

John chuckled as he grabbed out 'Hamlet' flicking a few pages over before settling down to read it. But his mind was elsewhere, with Sherlock. He'd definitely have to write in his notebook later. Everything was all so confusing, yet John loved that. Mystery was his muse.  
**  
~~~&~~~**

Moriarty had told John to meet him by the courtyard. That was at least half an hour ago. John had his phone out again, trying to call his friend.

"Hello, you have reached my voicemail. I can't answer your call right now. So, leave a message after the beep, thank you!" Moriarty's voice sang over the phone.

John groaned as he pocketed his phone, sighing as he lent against the fountain wall. He'd been here earlier than they had organised, much earlier. He and Moriarty went off to do their own thing after class, and John had sent him a few texts.

"I suppose I am being stood up then. Bloody marvellous!" he exclaimed.

If Moriarty had got in contact with him it would have been a completely different story. But had he? Absolutely not.

"Bloody dickhead," he cursed, wrapping his arms around himself.

It had started to snow a little, the air crisp and cold.

"I'll wait five more minutes," he huffed.

Suddenly a twig snapped and John looked up, noticing a figure walked toward him. It wasn't Moriarty, no, the figure was far too tall. It had to be...

"Sherlock," John mumbled.

John was in fact correct as Sherlock's distinct features came into view. He stopped abruptly upon seeing John, his hands placed snugly into his coat pockets.

"John?" he questioned.

Did he just call him by only his first name?

"Hello Mr Holmes," he replied with a small smile.

"What on earth are you doing out in the freezing cold?" he asked, walking a little closer.

"Well, I was meeting Jim here, for dinner, but he appears to have not shown up," John mumbled as he shivered slightly.

Sherlock was silent for a moment before shrugging his coat off and placing it around John.

"Mr Holmes you don't hav-" John stopped as Sherlock held his hand up.

"You need it more than I do John," he replied.

"Thank you," John hummed, pulling it around him more. It smelt like Sherlock, the scent was rather intoxicating. "Very kind of you," he added.

"I am very kind when needs be," Sherlock answered.

How cocky of him. John smiled softly as he looked away from Sherlock for a moment, his cheeks flushed.

"Dinner?" the actor spoke fondly.

"Pardon?" John asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned back.

"Well it appears we have both been abandoned here by our men. Unfortunate, yet there is always another plan. Dinner, John," Sherlock replied, looking at the student.

"I'm sorry I still don't understand," John sighed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes briefly, placing his gloved fingertips to his chin. That seemed to be a common and profound gesture that he made.

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner John? Professionally of course, lecturer and student business. If anyone asks I am simply giving you extra assistance," Sherlock droned in a baritone.

John's breath has hitched slightly in his throat as he looked at Sherlock, the moon shining into his eyes, which glistened a little more than needs be, making them almost grey to silver in colour.

"Alright. I don't see anything wrong with that," he replied with a smile.

"Splendid. Come along John, I'm taking you to my favourite place in London," the lecturer responded, gesturing his arm out towards the path.

"How far?" John asked, following beside Sherlock.

"About five minutes, this pathway leads outside the university. It sits on the corner of the street, very quiet most nights but very exceptional meals," Sherlock drawled.

John nodded, slipping Sherlock's coat off as he handed it back to the older man.

"I'm much better now," he quipped, grinning a little.

Sherlock nodded curtly as he took the coat in his hand, his fingers lightly brushing John's. The younger man had noticed and he felt his heart skip a beat before turning away, cheeks flushed. Sherlock however, had taken no notice what so ever.

"So tell me John, what do you do in your spare time?" he asked.

"I uh, I read, write, watch movies or go for walks," John replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Interesting, what movies do you enjoy? Besides the ones with myself in them of course," Sherlock questioned as they walked through a set of gates.

"Marvel movies are my favourite. Although I prefer a few fantasy ones here and there," he answered, glancing at Sherlock briefly.

"Hmm, that would explain why you watched me in 'Crescendo' and 'Unearthly'. What about books? Do you enjoy fantasy books?" the actor continued.

"Most yes, and some mystery novels. Ones about detectives and such," John replied.

"Ah yes," Sherlock droned.

John suddenly remembered the whole script drama and cringed.

"I am sorry about the script. It really is good though. I think you'd fit well to the part of the detective," he murmured.

A tiny grin played on Sherlock's face, his cupid bow lips parted ever so slightly.

"Thank you John," he replied, before looking ahead. "Here we are, I'll get us my favourite table," he added as they walked inside the small restaurant.

They were greeted by a waiter who put them at a table by the window, John sat over where the window was, his back facing it, while Sherlock sat across from John. The pair picked up their menus as they scanned down the page of meals, Sherlock's eyes darting over to John now and again.

"So John, are you single?" he asked abruptly.

"Pardon me? I thought this was strictly professional," John replied, looking a little paranoid.

"It is, I'm only a little curious, that's all," Sherlock hummed.

"I'm not answering that," the student huffed.

"Girlfriend?" Sherlock continued, peering over the menu.

"What? No," John mumbled, brow creasing.

"Boyfriend?" the actor murmured in a baritone, eyebrow raising curiously as he tilted his head.

"No," John grumbled.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he questioned, resting his menu on the table as he placed his fingertips to his chin, again.

"Yes, Mr Holmes, you are, greatly," John hissed, placing his menu down also.

"I am terribly sorry, I've had a bad day," Sherlock replied, looking away again. "I am married to my work should I say," he added.

"Married to your work? What about Callum?" John asked hesitantly.

"That's a story for another day, John. Now, let's eat shall we?" Sherlock replied with a raised eyebrow, his tongue darting out daintily, gliding across his lower lip as he tried to mask it from view, yet the student had noticed slightly, gazing a little too intensely at the action.

John nodded slightly as he picked up his menu again. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he was even here with Sherlock. He was his lecturer and he was having dinner with him, professionally? It hardly seemed like that. Then again, they are both bloody grown men, why would it be of any trouble? John let out a little sigh before placing his menu down, resting his hands under his chin, elbows on the table.

"Let's talk about you a little bit Mr Holmes," he spoke fondly.

Sherlock dropped his menu, his eyes fixated on John, before a small smile spread on his face.

"Very well then, and John," he mused.

"Mmm?" John hummed.

"Call me Sherlock," he answered in a low baritone.

**~~~&~~~**

Both Sherlock and John had lost track of time, ending up spending about two hours together. They parted ways at the courtyard, John back at Dukesford Street and Sherlock back to Baker Street. As he approached his room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Sherlock raised an eyebrow before quietly pushing it open, walking into the dimly lit foyer, closing the door behind him, before making his way upstairs. He came into the equally as dim living room, switching a desk light on.

"Where have you been?" a voice spoke.

Sherlock froze as he turned around, noticing Callum sitting in the arm chair opposite his black leather one.

"Out," he replied simply, shrugging his coat off.

"With one of your students?" Callum questioned standing up.

"Strictly business, how did you even know anyways?" Sherlock replied.

Another lie, yet not as big a lie as the one about his past drug abuse. However, he and John hardly kept the evening about the class. He knew a lot more about John than he probably should, but he did not see the slightest bit of wrong in it.

"Dinner? That's strictly business? Also I saw you saying goodbye to him at the courtyard," Callum huffed.

"You were nowhere in bloody sight Callum. I bloody well waited for you and you didn't show," Sherlock snapped, resting his hands behind his back.

"Don't do that Sherlock, it's very intimidating," Callum mumbled before stepping forward. "I called you several times to say plans had changed and that you were to come to my house. When I came here I noticed your phone was still here. Your inbox is full texts from some man. I forgot his name, but apparently you want to book another session and it had me wondering, are you bloody drug dealing or drug taking again?" he continued, his eyes watering slightly.

"It's not what you think," Sherlock replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh isn't it? It looks perfectly like it to me Sherlock. Darling w-what have I not done right?" Callum replied with a choked sob.

Sherlock moved closer to Callum, resting his hands on the younger man's arms, rubbing up and down them gently.

"Callum, my dearest, it's a session for therapy," he mused.

"Therapy?" his lover squeaked, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Yes, I have been having reoccuring nightmares about...my past and I do not want to go back to that tedious situation again. I want us to be happy together," Sherlock whispered.

"But we are happy," Callum sighed, looking into the actor's eyes.

"We are, but not quite. We argue far too much. What are you doing tomorrow at lunch?" Sherlock asked.

"Getting my suit for tomorrow evening," he hummed.

"Right, well, I shall go with you and we will have lunch to make up for tonight," Sherlock issued with a lopsided smile.

"Honestly, please tell me why I love you," Callum chuckled, pressing his lips to Sherlock's.

As they pulled away Sherlock's hands rested firmly on his partner's hips. His breathing slightly laboured.

"Because you simply do, now come along, I'm hungry," Sherlock hummed with a cheeky smirk.

"But you just ate," Callum laughed.

"No no darling, hungry for you," the actor whispered.

"Oh Sherlock," Callum purred, following him upstairs to his bedroom.

**~~~&~~~**

John sat up in bed as the door to his and Moriarty's dorm opened, closing quietly after. He flicked the bedside light on, causing Moriarty to jump as he froze in his spot.

"Where were you?" John questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"John I'm so sorry," Moriarty replied.

"Sorry? You left me waiting in the bloody cold, you did not even call me," John spat.

"I was caught up in things. I would have called but my phone went flat. Please John, don't get angry with me," his friend whispered, fidgeting in his spot.

"Angry? I'm beyond bloody angry you twit! I'd expect some sort of explanation of some sort but you did not nor have you given me one yet!" John exclaimed, moving out of his bed.

Moriarty bit his lip as he walked over to John, his hands held behind his back.

"I wanted to give you this," he answered. "Yet, in order to get it I had to travel back to my house to get it which is all the way over the other side of London. I thought I would have made it back in time, yet my family insisted that I stay for dinner and of course my phone went flat," he added, placing a book in John's hands.

John looked down at the book, noticing it was a biography of Sherlock, the one he had been chasing for a while.

"It has his signature on the inside, I thought, you might like it and you would take better care of it. I met him a few years back after he did 'Hamlet' that's where I got the book signed," Moriarty spoke, eyes fixated on John.

"Jim I...thank you," he mumbled, putting the book down, before pulling Moriarty in for a hug.

"Are you still mad?" he asked.

"Of course I bloody am, but I can't stay mad forever. We'll make up for lost time at some point," John hummed.

Moriarty gazed at John, a small smile twitching at his lips.

"We could make up for that now," he purred.

John raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning Moriarty's face for any particular signs of what he meant with what he had just said.

"I don't quite understand Jim," John replied, swallowing the lump in his throat.

His friend stepped closer to him, smoothing his hand down John's cheek before settling under his jaw.

"You have no clue, do you Johnny boy?" he chuckled, stepping a little closer so that their bodies touched.

John's face flushed a deep red as he looked away from the younger man, his heart pounding slightly in his chest. He and Moriarty had been flirting a fair amount ever since John had started here at Oxmont, it hadn't really gone unnoticed by the pair.

"I am always open for mystery I suppose," he whispered, looking back at Moriarty.

He smiled widely, grabbing both of John's hands as he kissed each one softly, before holding them both against his chest.

"I think we both know what we want," Moriarty hummed, eyelids dipping.

"Perhaps...you should show me," John replied with a low purr.

Moriarty grinned, sliding his hands down John's sides before wrapping his arms around his waist, one hand resting gently on John's lower back.

"May I?" he questioned.

John gave a small nod, his hand moving under Moriarty's jaw, tilting his head up a little. Before even another word could be said, Moriarty pressed his lips against John's in a tender kiss. It was magical, seemingly romantic and just right for the pair. Perhaps this was John's cue to open himself up to romance again. Perhaps...

* * *

**A/N: Smooth Sherlock, smooth, asking John to dinner 'professionally'. I can feel all the Johnlock soaring in the air. However, sadly, Moriarty seems to have gotten to John first ;) Admit it, Sherlock is growing fond of John. Sorry it took so long to update, but so much to write, so much to type. I hope you enjoy.**


	5. Chapter Three - Nobly With Thy Love

**_"Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul" - Iago from Othello_**

* * *

The week had flown in fairly quick. It was Friday now and neither Moriarty nor John had class. John was a little disheartened by it, as this would mean he can't see Sherlock. That night where he was ditched by Moriarty got slightly better just from Sherlock's presence. John didn't bother about telling Moriarty where he had been that night, figuring it would be best not to, seeing as certain things happened that night.

"Congratulations!" Molly exclaimed, giving the pair a huge hug.

"I told you it would happen," Greg chuckled, leaning back against the grass.

"Shut up Lestrade," John and Moriarty said at the same time, before staring at each other.

"Just kiss already!" Greg yelled, receiving a hard slap on the arm from Molly.

"Not in public," Moriarty huffed, resting against John who had his arm wrapped around the younger man.

"Stubborn Jim," John chuckled, running his hand through Moriarty's hair.

"Absolutely," he replied as he closed his eyes.

"Good morning," a baritone voice chimed.

Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes," Molly replied.

"Molly, Jim, John, Graham," Sherlock mused.

Greg frowned as he glared at Sherlock

"Greg," he murmured.

"Hm? Oh yes, terribly sorry. How are we?" Sherlock questioned.

"Fine Sherlock, you?" John replied.

Moriarty's eyes widened slightly at John calling the lecturer by his first name.

"Splendid, thank you," he answered with a grin.

Sherlock caught a glimpse of John and Moriarty's hands entwined together, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked away. What on earth was that? Jealousy? No, of course not, why would he be?

"I believe congratulations are in order," he hummed, tilting his head slightly.

"Thank you Mr Holmes," Moriarty answered, his Irish twang slipping through.

"Right, well, I best be off, lunch date with Callum. Behave yourselves, oh and please make sure you do your homework," Sherlock issued as he nodded at the students before turning away.

"Have a nice day Sherlock!" John called.

The actor looked back briefly, locking eyes with John as he nodded, not a grin or anything in sight. That was rather odd.

"John," Moriarty spoke, facing his boyfriend.

"Hm?" John questioned, turning back.

"You called him Sherlock," Molly wavered with wide eyes.

"Well he uh, he let me call him that," John replied nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"You're one lucky sod," Greg laughed.

The students erupted into laughter, eyes creased as other students walked by, wondering what was going on.

"Oh John, but you really are lucky," Moriarty hummed. "He even looked at you differently," he added.

"Differently? How?" John asked.

"I can't exactly put my finger on it but he was rather friendly and not so hostile. He's really taken a liking to you," Moriarty chuckled.

"Sherlock has a crush," Greg sing songed.

"Hold on a sodding minute, don't start all that up. Don't be ridiculous," John huffed.

He was beginning to get annoyed with the entire conversation in general, feeling like he should get up and leave.

"We're only joking John," Moriarty soothed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Ew," Greg moaned.

"Greg!" Molly snapped.

Moriarty and John snickered as the couple began bickering at each other, a few swear words here and there.

"Alright you two, save it for later. Who wants to do something today?" Moriarty interjected.  
Molly and Greg stopped snapping at each other as they turned to face the other couple.

"Oh, how about the lake?" Molly questioned with a hopeful smile.

"The lake?" John asked, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked at his friends and boyfriend.

"Oh yes, the lake, it's a beautiful one, it's a good walk away from the dorms and the university itself but it's worth it," Moriarty replied.

"So it's actually in the university?" John continued.

"Yes," Molly answered.

"Wow, this bloody place has everything!" he laughed.

Molly, Greg and Moriarty burst into fits of laughter as they all stood up from the grass.

"We will meet you both back here in about twenty five minutes, bring whatever you fancy with you," Molly spoke, taking a hold of Greg's hand.

John and Moriarty nodded as they farwelled their friends before the younger man turned to John and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, resting his head into John's chest as he sighed.

"You seem rather happy," John chuckled, pulling Moriarty further into his embrace.

"I'm just glad to be this close to you," Moriarty hummed softly.

"How sweet," John teased, resting one of his hands in Moriarty's hair as he ran his fingers through the short hairs.

"Oh shut up," his boyfriend laughed as they pulled away.

They laced their fingers through each others, smiles spread on both their faces as they made their way back to the dorm. Little to their knowledge, Sherlock sat under a tree, back against it as he flicked through a book. His head rose slightly as he watched the doting couple walk by, his eyes resting on John. He had grown a little too accustom to John's company, feeling like he had to watch out of the student, in a sense. Yet, it seems he didn't need that at all. Sherlock turned away from looking at John, staring up at the sky, a few birds flying past.

"I wonder what it'd be like if I could fly away," he hummed.

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed.

The actor turned his head as he saw Callum making his way over to him.

"Callum, what are you doing here?" he asked a little too hostile for Callum's liking.

"Coming to get you, come on, we're going to the lake," he ushered, holding his hand out to his lover.

"Callum," Sherlock moaned in annoyance. "You know I don't like that lake much," he added.

"Tough, you need to get out a little more, hanging around the main parts of the university does you no good," Callum huffed.

Sherlock sighed before taking his partner's hand as he was hoisted up to his feet. Callum smiled as he kissed him tenderly on the lips before taking his hand.

"You're too kind to me," Sherlock spoke as they made their way to Baker Street.

"Oh it's not much Sherly, but I love you, so you better be bloody used to it," Callum chuckled.

"Calling me Sherly now are we?" Sherlock mumbled.

"Sorry," Callum laughed, squeezing Sherlock's hand.

The actor smiled at his partner as they strolled leisurely through the university. Neither made conversation at all, that's how they liked their walks sometimes. Sherlock however, his mind was reeling with worry about John. He shouldn't be in such a panic, yet from things he was told a few nights ago when he was with John, he couldn't help but feel a little protective. Sherlock, oh Sherlock, you're being irrational, he's a grown man. Yet he wanted to know more about his student, he was rather fond of him. Far too fond.

* * *

The lake was beyond what John had ever imagined. You could see right to the very bottom, seeing as it wasn't that deep and it was a very valued aspect of the university, so keeping it clean was a must. As the students approached the lake they noticed that not many others were there, the odd few swapping cigarettes, a few couples and a few of the study groups.

"This is unbelievable," John whispered, his fingers laced through Moriarty's as they walked down the hill.

"This is what you get when you come to a highly sought out university," Molly chuckled, glancing back at John briefly.

Moriarty stopped abruptly, just before they approached the lake, John quirking an eyebrow.

"Are you alright love?" he asked.

"I like this spot, let's sit here," Moriarty replied with a smile.

John nodded as he called on Molly and Greg to stop, motioning them over to the spot. Molly rolled out the plaid rug as the four of them sat down, Moriarty placing a bag in the middle with a few snacks, Greg placing a wireless iPod dock beside it as Pink Floyd began to play through the speakers.

"You're a Pink Floyd fan!" John exclaimed.

"Of course mate, why wouldn't anyone be?" Greg replied with a smirk.

"Touche," John chuckled, leaning back as he placed his hands to either side of him, Moriarty soon leaning his back against his chest.

"Gosh, you two are the sweetest," Molly gushed as she grabbed an apple from the bag.

"Thank you Molly," John replied with a small smile.

Moriarty tilted his head slightly as he looked up at John, running his finger under his boyfriend's chin. John chuckled as he squirmed at the touch, he was rather ticklish there.

"Oh, someone is a little ticklish," Moriarty mused in a sing song voice as he turned around to face John.

"Don't you bloody dare," he threatened.

"Oh but I will," Moriarty teased.

"Jim no. JIM!" John shrieked as the younger man attacked his ribs.

John fell backwards as he started to laugh hysterically, Moriarty still going on with his antics.

"Oh god Jim please stop!" John yelled, another cackle erupting from his mouth.

Soon Moriarty had somehow ended up on top of John, straddling his hips as they stared at each other intently.

"Get a room!" Greg exclaimed, causing the couple to erupt into fits of laughter.

"You have pretty eyes," Moriarty hummed, caressing his hand on John's chest.

"Hmm, so do you," John replied, pulling Moriarty forward as their lips crashed together in a deep kiss.

"Ew," Greg groaned, earning a slap from Molly who then lent forward and kissed her boyfriend.

"Don't be nasty," she whispered as he pulled away.

"Sorry," Greg mused, before bringing Molly into his arms in a warm embrace.

There was a few moments of silence, with only the tweeting of birds and trickle of water from the fountain being heard. That had soon been interrupted.

"Sherlock bloody Holmes! Get your arse in this lake right now and have some fun!" a voice yelled.

John raised his head as he looked across the lake and saw Callum waist deep in water, with Sherlock standing by the edge, looking rather awkward.

"I don't want to Callum, I didn't come here to swim," the actor huffed.

"Please?" Callum begged.

Sherlock's brow furrowed before he sighed, shrugging off his suit jacket he had on. John couldn't help but notice how tight Sherlock's purple shirt was on him. One might call it 'The Purple Shirt of Sex' if they really desired.

"Fine, fine, have it your way," Sherlock groaned, reaching up to undo his buttons.

s lips as he continued looking. s face in his hands before giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Aw," Molly hummed. "Those two are so in love it's unbelievable," she added.

"I guess so," John murmured, averting his gaze from the couple as he saw them being a little too overly passionate.

"John? John are you alright sweetheart?" Moriarty asked, leaning up on his elbows.

"I'm fine," he replied, with only a small half smile.

"Are you sure?" his doting boyfriend asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, I need to pop off to the bathroom," John mused as he quickly stood up.

"Want me to come with you?" Moriarty questioned.

Just at that moment, John caught sight of Sherlock leaning Callum against the wall around the lake, hands rested on his partner's legs out of the corner of his eye.

"No," he snapped, turning his gaze back to Moriarty. "I mean, no thank you. I won't be long," he added, kneeling down as he gave the younger man a quick kiss on the lips before standing up again as he quickly darted away down a pathway to find the bathroom.

Also at that same moment, Sherlock caught John's movements, just as he disappeared behind a few trees, a concerned frown crossing his brow.

"Darling, I just realised, we didn't bring any drinks with us, I might pop along to the stall that's just a little bit away from here," he spoke, looking into Callum's eyes.

"Alright, but you better hurry back love," Callum answered with a small smile.

"I will try my best," Sherlock mumbled as he hoisted himself out of the lake before walking up to the bench, slipping his purple shirt on, not caring that he was a little bit drenched.

He blew a kiss to Callum before sauntering off in the direction John had gone, trying his best to stay out of view from Moriarty, Molly and Greg. He certainly had no idea why he lied to Callum and why he was following after one of his students. Perhaps he only wanted to ask how he was, or was it more than that? Why was he so utterly fascinated with John? t long before he caught sight of John who was nervously making his way out of the bathrooms before taking another route. Sherlock followed, secretively and ever so daintily. Due to such anxiety filling up inside his mind, John lost his balance, doubling over as he fell onto the road that led out of the university, a car approaching.

"Christ John!" Sherlock yelled, racing forward.

His firm hands gripped onto John's shirt as he pulled him upwards, quicker than any other soul could have. The pair fell back with a thud, John dangerously close to Sherlock, actually, he was practically wrapped protectively in the actor's arms. Their breathing was laboured as John pulled away slightly, Sherlock's arms slipping from him.

"John, you're bleeding," he whispered.

His thumb came up as he ran it across John's busted lip, a wince following after a shocked gasp as John found himself staring into those bright blue orbs owned by Sherlock, his mind absolutely reeling with confused emotions. They stared for a few minutes more, before Sherlock awkwardly moved away, pulling John up with him as he let go of John's arm.

"You need to be careful," he snapped.

John's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Sherlock. Again with the hostility?

"There's no need for you to talk to me like that," John mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There bloody well is John, you could have died," Sherlock warned.

"Well that would be rather unfortunate I suppose," the student huffed, brow creasing.

"Will yo-don't you have friends to get back to?" Sherlock questioned in his particularly overused baritone.

"Aren't I talking to one?" John mused, unfolding his arms.

He thinks Sherlock is his friend now? After a spot of dinner he thinks he can claim the actor as a friend?

"Oh please," Sherlock laughed. "I don't have friends," he added, his facial features screwing up slightly as he emphasised the word 'friends' with a low hiss.

John could have sworn he felt slightly upset, perhaps beyond that. And what about that moment before? What was that? God, he thought his lecturer had changed, yet it seemed John was far wrong.

"You're an absolute psychopath," he spat, brow creasing again.

"I'm not a psychopath. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research," Sherlock growled, leaning closer to John.

The pair stared each other down before John looked away, his hand clenching into a fist.

"I told you things about me and this is how you suddenly treat me?" he questioned angrily.

"People change, John," Sherlock murmured.

"Not everyday they don't," the younger man whispered, looking back at the actor.

"I should never have asked you to dinner, Mr Watson. Stupid mistake. I have to leave. Good day to you and make sure you get that cleaned up," Sherlock hummed, before walking past John. "Until we meet again like this, John, perhaps," he added, not even glancing back at John.

He stood motionless for a moment, staring down at the ground, a clap of thunder rumbling in the clouds. John felt the rain begin to pelt down on him as he looked up, the sky quickly becoming grey. It masked the tears that were falling down his face. Why was he crying? Was it because of Sherlock? No, was it? John angrily shook his head as he wiped the tears away before he started to walk back to the lake. He had figured that Molly, Greg and Moriarty had probably fled already to the safety of their dorms. John didn't care, not in the slightest, he was already drenched anyways.

"John!" a voice called.

He looked up as he saw Callum jogging toward him. His eyes rolled in annoyance as he stopped in his tracks.

"Have you seen Sherlock?" Callum asked.

"No," John lied. "And frankly, I do not care. Might I suggest you get that bloody man of yours under control before he ends up getting smacked in the mouth because personally I would have by now if he wasn't my lecturer," John hissed.

Callum stared wide eyed at John, clutching some of Sherlock's clothing to his chest.

"Goodbye Callum," John murmured before pushing past him.

"Bye," Callum replied timidly.

By god what is going on?

* * *

John hadn't spoken for the rest of yesterday, not even to Moriarty. His boyfriend got rather worried, yet he seemed to brighten up a little when Moriarty took him out for a lovely breakfast in the morning. The pair were strolling hand in hand through the courtyard, passing the time before they had class. At first John found it off to attend class on Saturday, yet apparently with the course he was doing, it was part of the curriculum to give up one day of your weekend in exchange for Friday being your day off.  
It didn't matter much to John right now. He was still fussed about yesterday, about Sherlock. He closed his eyes briefly as the events of yesterday played back in his head. The one that stood out the most was Sherlock's thumb touching John's lip, the way that they stared at each other, the way their breathing was escalating. John even could have sworn he saw Sherlock's pupils dilate for a moment, but that wouldn't mean anything. Would it?

"John, my dear, are you alright?" Moriarty questioned.

John's eyes slid open as he glanced at his partner, noting his hand was gripping Moriarty's tighter than before.

"Sorry, I hardly slept," he mumbled, looking away from Moriarty.

"You can tell me anything you know," the younger man soothed.

"I know," John replied.

Moriarty stopped in his tracks as he pulled John close to him, leaning forward as he pressed his lips tenderly to John's, his fingers lacing through John's empty hand as he deepened the kiss. The pair pulled away, resting their foreheads against each other's.

"You're lovely you know that," John purred.

"Oh John, stop," Moriarty chuckled, brushing his nose on John's as he placed a chaste kiss on the other student's lips.

"Come on, you love it," John teased, a smile growing on his face.

"Hmm, I wouldn't say so, but I do love you," Moriarty hummed.

John's breath hitched in his throat as he stared at Moriarty, before a small sigh emitted from his lips.

"Jim," he murmured with slight annoyance.

"Too soon?" Moriarty questioned, his face saddening a little.

"A little bit," John answered. "Wait a little while longer until we're both certain," he added.

Moriarty nodded understandably before suddenly being pulled into John's arms, their lips smashing together in a passionate kiss. When John had pulled away, Moriarty let out an excited little gasp.

"Wow," he chuckled.

John smirked before taking the younger man's hand again.

"Let's get to class early," he issued.

"If we must," Moriarty whined.

s working on medical practices, his boyfriend did seem rather enthralled, then proceeded to tell John about his time as a chef, which made John beg him to cook one night. s hands as they walked inside. A few students were there already, as well as Greg and Molly, sitting in their usual spots. John glanced over at Sherlock, noting his fingertips under his chin and closed eyes.

"Go up to our seats, I need to talk to him for a moment," he spoke quietly to Moriarty.

He parted ways with his partner as he approached Sherlock's desk cautiously.

"Sherlock," he spoke.

The actor's eyes snapped open as he glanced at John, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Please don't speak while I am in my mind palace,"he murmured, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Mind palace?" John asked.

"Yes, Mr Watson, mind palace. Now, go sit down and get on with your work," Sherlock mused, closing his eyes again.

John was taken aback by the lecturer's sudden anti-social behaviour, staring at him momentarily before turning away.

"Oh, and I trust you enjoyed your night," he quipped, eyes opening again.

"I beg your pardon?" John questioned, turning back to face Sherlock.

The lecturer uncrossed his legs quickly as he slowly stood up, palms placed on the desk. He stared at John intensely, as if he was reading him. Deducing him perhaps? John had begun to feel rather intimidated, seeing as Sherlock was far taller than him, looking down on John. Why was he suddenly being so...unlikable?

"You arrived here early which would tell me you had decent hours of sleep to wake up in time. You've got a glint in your eyes which would lead me to suspect that you're rather, should I say...'flustered' about something. Not to mention you still smell of Mr Moriarty's perfume which would further lead me to suspect you two got fairly intimate last night. I can see fresh spray marks on your neck where you would have refreshed it when you woke up this morning. Might I further deduce that your body language is showing signs of nervousness, you obviously are rather fragile on the mention of sex in public, especially in front of me," Sherlock spoke lowly, leaning down on the desk more.

"Shouldn't you be alarmed with the way you talk about it?" John snapped, his eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Sex doesn't alarm me," Sherlock droned, placing himself back in his chair.

"Are you quite finished now?" John whispered, his entire face riddled with anger.

Sherlock glanced briefly at John before turning away again, fingertips under his chin.

"It was also noticeable by the love bites on your neck," he murmured. "Go, you have work to get on with," he added, closing his eyes.

John turned his back on Sherlock as he stormed up the stairs, tears almost brimming in his eyes as he cursed at Sherlock under his breath, calling him every name under the sun. He was beyond embarrassed. How could Sherlock tell all that just by looking at him? It was worrying and slightly creepy in a sense. Moriarty looked up as he saw his angry, mortified and close to sobbing boyfriend thump down on the chair beside him.

"John, what happened? Are you alright?" he asked softly, resting his hand on John's shaky hand.

"That. Man," John whispered. "He's the worst person I have ever met and I wish I had never had a stupid obsession with him," he continued as he sank further down into his seat.

Moriarty looked down at Sherlock who was still stuck away in his 'mind palace', hardly taking any notice of his class. What in the world was wrong with him? One moment he was nice, the next he is back to his old self. Odd fellow, odd fellow indeed.

* * *

"Sherlock, how are you going with your new students?" Adam Durrant, another lecturer at the university questioned.

"Oh I only got one new student. John Watson his name is. He seems to have settled in well with the classmates. However he is not very well mannered sometimes," Sherlock replied, fixing the collar on his coat.

"I see, does he not do his tasks or does he talk back to you?" Adam mused, taking a sip of his coffee.

"A story for another day perhaps Adam, this is me here," Sherlock answered, pointing to 221B Baker Street.

"Oh right, well you take care and look after yourself alright?" Adam replied with a small smile as he patted the actor on the shoulder before walking away.

Sherlock shrugged his coat on a little tighter as he walked over to the door, putting the key in the lock before pushing the door open with his foot. Just as he ascended the stairs his phone beeped as he pulled it from his pocket. It was a message from Callum.

_"I'll be over in a moment, must talk to you about something," - CH_

The actor raised his eyebrow a little as he put his phone on the table before shrugging his coat off, placing it over the couch. He paced around the room for a moment, before settling into his leather chair. At that moment synchronised footsteps sounded up the stairs as Sherlock turned his head to the door. Callum appeared at the door, only quirking a half smile before stepping into the room.

"Sit," Sherlock hummed, smiling softly.

Callum never said a word as he sat down in the armchair opposite Sherlock. His hand reached forward as he clasped Sherlock's firmly in his. The touch was almost extremely alien to Sherlock, Callum's hand was shaking slightly.

"Sherlock," he whispered.

"Hmm?" Sherlock mused softly, with a smile.

"I am sorry to be doing this right now, in mid-term. I love you, and I have loved every moment with you. But, I think maybe...we should see other people," Callum replied, eyes watering slightly.

Sherlock's smile faltered, his eyes saddening as he stared at Callum. He's breaking up with him? He searched Callum's face for any signs that it was all a silly joke. Yet he saw nothing that would give him that impression.

"Oh, right," he murmured.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I wish I didn't have to do this, but times change. People change," Callum mumbled, a small tear falling down his face.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine," Sherlock replied, clearing his throat. "I understand," he added.

The pair stared at each other for a moment, Callum's hand still in Sherlock's. The actor moved his hand from the younger man's grasp, hand coming up to his mouth as he rested it against his lips, his eyes now slightly watering.

"I have to go. We will keep in contact, I'm sorry again love. I will always love you. In here," Callum spoke, pointing to his heart. "Never forget that," he added before standing up as he lent down and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's forehead, before pulling away.

Sherlock closed his eyes gently, a single tear threatening to escape.

"Goodbye Callum," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes," the younger man answered, turning as he quickly left the room.

After Sherlock heard the front door close he let out a huge breath that he was holding in. That was it, it was over, everything seemed so pointless now. Sherlock sighed as he closed his eyes, his memory suddenly flashing back to the moment at the lake. Him and John, so close it was tempting to kiss him right there and then.  
His eyes snapped open as he shook the thought away, slowly standing up as he made his way over to the window. The actor just caught a glimpse of Callum who turned down a street which led out of Oxmont, then he was gone, a faded memory.

"All's well, that ends well," he hummed, picking up his violin as he placed it in the correct position.

Sherlock began to play a slow and sombre tune as he stared out of the window, rain beginning to patter on the glass as storm clouds formed outside. How ironic of that to happen just after Sherlock was left to his dwellings. Yet his mind was elsewhere, somewhere that it shouldn't be.

_ John, John...John._ **  
**

* * *

******Poor Sherlock! Oh but him and John, so should have kissed. Don't fear, you haven't seen the last of Callum. Hope you enjoy.**


End file.
